


Whisper Softly To Me

by theatergay



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: (for race at least), Blow Jobs, First Time, Hand Jobs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-11
Updated: 2018-03-11
Packaged: 2019-03-29 16:44:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13931124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theatergay/pseuds/theatergay
Summary: “I can see that brain of yours running a mile a minute, Race,” Spot says. “What're you thinking about?”Race bows his head again, but instead of being able to look at the hem of Spot's t-shirt, all he sees is the strain in Spot's jeans. It doesn't help his situation. “I'm thinking about sucking you, maybe? But I don't know what I'm doing.”“Don't worry,” Spot says all too calmly for the situation. “If that's what you want to do, then you can.”-Or: Race and Spot's first time together.





	Whisper Softly To Me

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Madonna's "Like A Prayer". Tagged as underage because I wrote this imagining them around seventeen/eighteen, but it's not explictly stated.

Race is by no means complaining when he ends up with Spot's hands on him, bracing his neck and wandering lower, but he can't help blushing and pulling away slightly when Spot palms at him through his pajama pants. He laughs awkwardly.

“I'm, uh– I don't have a clue what I'm doing here, I'm pretty lost,” he admits, looking down at his lap.

“That's okay,” Spot says, easing Race into sitting down on his lap. “Just follow my lead, okay?” Race nods despite being still clearly anxious, and lets Spot pull him in for another kiss. It's slow and calm and tender, the opposite of everything Race is feeling at the moment. He lets himself relax into it anyways, focusing on the brush of Spot's tongue against his and the way Spot's hands are holding his hips firmly.

Spot hooks his fingers under the hem of Race's baggy t-shirt, rubbing at his skin gently. Race shudders, squirming slightly in Spot's lap. Spot pulls back gently.

“Still okay?” he asks, stroking his thumbs over Race's hips. Race nods, panting softly. “You sure?” Spot prods after a few moments of Race looking like he's on the brink of saying something.

“Yeah,” Race says. “Yeah, I'm sure, I just–”

“Yeah?”

“Can I touch you?” He's chewing his lip nervously and refusing to make eye contact with Spot. Spot laughs gently.

“Yeah, of course you can, Race,” he says easily. It becomes clear after a few moments that Race isn't going to move of his own volition, so Spot lets go of one of Race's hips and takes his hand slowly. He leans in, kissing Race again as he guides his hand to his chest. Race doesn't kiss back as much, instead focusing on the feeling of Spot's chest underneath his fingers. 

“Remember what I said, okay? Just follow me. You can relax, you don't have to worry about messing up.”

“I don't want this to be bad,” Race responds honestly. Spot smiles and presses their lips together briefly.

“You can relax,” Spot reiterates. “Follow my lead. I promise I won't let you get out of your depth, okay? You're in control of everything here.”

“Okay,” Race says. “Okay. I'm in control. I don't know what I'm doing in control, but I'm–”

“Hey,” Spot says, cutting him off. “Race. Do you want to be doing this?”

“Yes,” he responds instantly. “I just don't know what I'm doing and I feel like it's going to be embarrassing if I mess it up.”

“Don't worry about whether or not you're messing up or doing the right thing,” Spot tells him. “Do what you feel like doing, yeah?” Race nods, his face still only centimeters from Spot's. “I'd like to kiss you again, if that's alright.”

Race lets out a shaky sigh and leans in, pressing his lips to Spot's with more energy than before. His hand slowly roams Spot's chest, appreciating the way he feels Spot's quick heartbeat through his shirt. Spot's hands return to Race's waist, slipping underneath his shirt and pulling him closer. Race gasps a little and jerks down, grinding into Spot.

“I'm–”

“That felt good,” Spot says into Race's mouth. Race experimentally rocks his hips down again, enjoying the way Spot's come up to meet him halfway. His hand wanders a little lower to rest on Spot's stomach. Spot goes back to kissing him, trailing along Race's jaw and leaving small bites as he goes. Race whines when Spot sucks his earlobe into his mouth, rolling it between his teeth gently. Spot's hands push up under Race's shirt before he quickly releases Race's ear and moves to look at him directly.

“Can we get this off?” Spot asks, his hands solid against Race's stomach. Race chews his lip, debating Spot's question. “You can say no if you don't want to. Won't be upset, I promise.” He presses a quick kiss to Race's collarbone, still rubbing his thumbs over the sides of Race's stomach. Race squirms in his lap, accidentally rocking up against Spot's crotch. Race shakes his head sharply.

“Okay,” Spot says, ever calm. “Cool.” Race blushes, looking down at his lap, or more, where his and Spot's bodies meet. “Hey, don't be embarrassed,” Spot says. “You're doing really well.”

“Can you take yours off?” Race blurts, his cheeks quickly turning even pinker than before. “I mean, you don't have to, but–”

Spot's answer comes in the form of him quickly stripping his shirt off and tossing it haphazardly onto Race's floor.

“There,” he says gently. “Now what?” Race frowns and cocks his head, staring intently at Spot while Spot holds Race's waist gently. He has an idea of what he wants to do, but doesn't know whether his mouth will actually let him say the words.

Spot kisses him softly before he can say anything, shifting Race so that he's more on top of Spot.

“Now,” Race says hesitantly. “I don't know.”

“I can see that brain of yours running a mile a minute, Race,” Spot says. “What're you thinking about?”

Race bows his head again, but instead of being able to look at the hem of Spot's t-shirt, all he sees is the strain in Spot's jeans. It doesn't help his situation. “I'm thinking about sucking you, maybe? But I don't know what I'm doing.” 

“Don't worry,” Spot says all too calmly for the situation. “If that's what you want to do, then you can.” 

“Okay,” Race says. “Okay, yeah, I think I want to try that.”

Spot smiles. Race kisses him, reaching down and nervously grasping at the fly of Spot's jeans. His hands are shaking slightly, making it hard for him to undo it, but he eventually succeeds.

“You're gonna have to get off me if you want to do this, pretty boy,” Spot says gently. Race clambers awkwardly out of Spot's lap. Spot arches his hips and shoves his jeans down, kicking them off his legs and to the side.

“Kiss?” Spot asks simply, holding a hand out for Race. He crawls forward and pressed his lips to Spot's. Spot holds him close as Race's hands move tentatively to Spot's chest. Spot feels Race relaxing into him, his muscles loosening as he kisses him.

Race pulls back after a few minutes of gentle kissing and nipping to look at Spot wide eyed. “Now what?” he asks.

“You want me to guide you, or do you want to figure this out on your own?”

“Both,” Race says. “You have to help me, but let me try.”

“Alright,” Spot agrees easily. “Let's start with underwear.”

“Right,” he says, staring directly at Spot's boxers, already with a slight wetness in the front. He reaches down a little shakily, hooking his fingers in the waistband of Spot's briefs. He slides them off, watching intently as Spot's cock bobs free, already very hard and leaking precum. “Don't come in my mouth, please,” he requests. “That seems gross.”

“Alright,” Spot says. “I won't. Just listen when I pull you off, okay?”

“You're going to–”

“I'm going to be real gentle with everything, okay? I promise it won't hurt.” Race nods, squirming until he's positioned at crotch level between Spot's legs. He gives Spot a long look, and Spot reaches down to scratch at Race's hair gently. “Relax,” he reminds. “Take it slow. I've got you.” Race nods and swallows nervously, leaning forward and lapping at Spot's tip lightly. It tastes weird, he thinks, but can't place what it's like.

Spot's fingers tug at his hair, gentle but encouraging. He ducks his head, taking more of Spot into his mouth and trying to relax his jaw enough to take him further. Instead, he pulls back slightly before bobbing his head back down more than before.

“Good,” Spot murmurs, fingers tightening in Race's hair. “Like that.” Race bobs his head again, pushing farther. This time, he pulls back immediately, chest heaving with coughs and a small string of saliva already dribbling down his chin.

“You okay?” Spot asks as Race chokes and coughs. He nods sharply, arms shaking slightly. “Careful,” Spot says once Race's coughing has subsided. “Don't choke yourself like that. I don't want you to get hurt, okay?” Race nods again, letting Spot wipe his thumb along Race's chin. “You're doing well, but don't push too hard.” Race lets out a hoarse sigh before shimmying back down to lick at the head of Spot's cock again. He takes Spot into his mouth again, holding with his hand what his mouth can't.

It's not too long before he builds a steady rhythm, alternating twists of his hand with bobs of his mouth. He's simply copying what he's seen in porn, but there's a reason it's in porn in the first place, he thinks to himself. Spot's fingers card through his hair, pushing and pulling gently in time with the rhythm that Race is building up. Spot murmurs something above him, but Race is focused elsewhere.

“Teeth,” Spot says, louder this time. “Race, teeth.” He tosses his hips up, tugging at Race's hair to pull him off.

“I'm sorry,” Race says hoarsely, refusing to move or look up from the mattress. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to–”

Spot tugs his hair again, bringing Race up to eye level and kissing him gently. Race frowns as soon as he pulls away.

“Isn't that gross?”

“I have bigger worries. You're doin' well, Race, okay? Just watch your teeth. It helps if you kinda cover them with your lips.” Race tries, and flushes bright red with embarrassment. “That's it,” Spot says encouragingly. “It feels funny, but you've got it.”

“Okay,” Race says, his voice cracking. “I'm going to keep going?” He doesn't wait for Spot's response and worms his way back between Spot's legs, this time not hesitating before taking Spot into his mouth. He grips Spot's hips, letting his jaw relax and take Spot until his cock is nudging Race's throat. Race becomes intensely aware of the saliva dripping down his chin and into the mattress as he takes Spot deeper.

“Fuck,” Spot gasps loudly as Race swallows around him. “ _Fuck_ , okay, yeah.” There's something about the lack of eloquence in his boyfriend that makes Race glow, or maybe it's the fact that said uneloquence is Race's doing. Spot's grip of his hair tightens as Race again builds up a rhythm, jerking and sucking at Spot. He circles his head around the top and feels pride in the way Spot's hips jump up. Race chokes obscenely and lets Spot's fingers in his hair set the pace.

Spot pushes and pulls in a steady time, tightly tangled in Race's hair. He's acutely aware of every sensation, the way Race's throat feels at the head of his cock, the way Race's teeth are still gently rubbing at him, the way Race's hand is jerking what his mouth can't take. It's not the best he's ever had, but despite Race's clear lack of experience, it's close up there.

His fingers tighten in Race's hair as he feels familiar heat pool in his lower stomach. “Race,” he pants, pulling steadily at Race's hair. “Race, off,” Race seems to get the message and pulls off of Spot, making an obscene sucking sound as he does so. He wraps his hand around Spot's cock, jerking firm and quick. His thumb dips into Spot's slit, and Spot spills everywhere, arching up and gasping as he comes onto his boyfriend and the sheets.

Race watches curiously, as if it's something he's never seen before. With Spot coming, he becomes very aware of how much he wants to do the same. Spot relaxes back, motioning Race closer to him. Race moves to his side before sitting next to him.

“Thanks,” Spot says, panting to regain his composure. Race shifts to face him. “You did really good with that, it felt really nice.” Race just hums. Spot brings Race forward by the back of his neck, kissing him gently. He can taste himself faintly on Race's tongue and smiles into the kiss.

Race pulls back and leans his forehead on Spot's, eyes flickering back and forth from Spot's. “I'm sorry if I didn't actually do good,” he says, his voice hoarse and gravelly. “But I–”

“You did really really well, Ant,” Spot says. “Promise. Give me a second and I'll get you taken care of, okay?”

“Okay,” Race agrees quietly. Spot slips off the bed and grabs his briefs off the floor, reaching out for Race's hand. He wipes the sticky mess off of Race's arm quickly and tosses his underwear back onto the pile of clothes on the floor.

“Gross, Spot.”

Spot kisses Race quickly. “Let's get you sorted out, huh?” Race purrs softly, letting Spot pull him onto his lap. He gropes at Race through his pajama pants, palming the shape of his cock through the fabric. “You want to leave these on?” he asks. Race nods. “You're so hard,” Spot murmurs into Race's ear. “You're enjoying this, huh?” Race whines, squirming up into Spot’s palm. “Anything you want from me? You did so good earlier, I'd be happy to give you anything.” Race shakes his head.

“Just this is okay. Like, if you wanted to jerk me off? That would be okay.” Spot smiles at Race's returned hesitance and slips his hand into Race's underwear. Race gasps out at Spot's hand on him, stroking slowly but firmly. Spot's other hand is laying on his chest, rucking his shirt up and holding Race against Spot. He quickly learns Spot's rhythm, bringing his hips up in time to meet Spot's thrusts halfway. Spot nips at the crook of his neck, listening and responding with a firmer bite when Race whimpers and squirms in Spot's lap.

“Calm,” Spot says, entirely aware that it won't work. “Relax. I've got you.” The next time he bites down on Race's neck, Race outright moans, cock twitching in Spot's hand. “Okay, so you like that,” he murmurs into Race's skin before biting another hickey and quickening the pace of his hand.

Race bucks up, grappling to hold Spot's arm around his chest.

“Spot, I'm–” 

“I know,” Spot says, “I know, I've got you, Race. Come when you're ready to, pretty boy.”

Race whines loudly at the pet name, squirming in Spot's lap. Spot keeps his pace quick and steady, jerking Race until he's coming. He splashes into his pants, gasping and thrashing in Spot's lap. Spot keeps working him through the aftershocks.

“You have a little more for me?” he asks, tugging at Race's cock slowly. “I think you do, can you give me a little more?” Race whines and squirms under Spot, the touch almost unbearable but the words coming out of Spot's mouth making it worth it. “Just a little more, you've been doing so good, pretty boy,” Spot says.

Race gives a few more weak spurts and then he's spent, shaking in Spot's lap pressed into his chest. He cranes his head back to kiss Spot, although it's more simply mouthing at him than a proper kiss. Spot indulges him, letting Race lick at him before he gently shifts him off his lap.

“Hey there,” Spot says with a gentle smile when Race makes eye contact. “How you doing?”

“Sex is weird,” Race says bluntly. “I want to cuddle.” Spot smiles, combing his fingers through Race's hair.

“Can we get you in some clean clothes and then cuddle?” Race frowns, weighing his options. “If you let this dry it's going to get tacky and icky and it's a bad texture. You won't like it at all,” Spot promises, and that's all that Race needs to be swayed.

He gets up jerkily and half walks, half stumbles into the bathroom, pushing the door closed with his foot. He's quick to shed his shirt and pants without being in Spot's view. He wets the corner of a towel and wipes it over himself before grabbing a different pair of sweats from the floor and pulling them on, struggling with the drawstring.

Race reemerges to see Spot having pulled on a pair of Race's basketball shorts, and Race is silently relieved. Instead of moving towards his dresser as planned, he decides to forgo the shirt and instead goes directly towards the bed. He jumps up, letting himself bounce on the mattress before he flops back and kicks his legs up.

“Come here,” Spot says, laying down and pulling Race into his chest. “You more comfortable now?” Race squirms around until he's facing Spot and nods. 

“You're really pretty, you know,” Spot says with a smile. “I mean it.” Race blushes and presses his forehead against Spot's.

“Thanks,” he mumbles. “You're not particularly unattractive either.” Spot laughs.

“I'm honored.” He reached up, taming the blond curls behind Race's ear. Race sighs and gives Spot a quick kiss. Spot laughs again. “You're not tired at all.”

Race drops his head and nuzzles into Spot’s shoulder. “No.”

“You don't want to sleep? It's late.”

“It's barely nine, Spot. It's Friday.”

“Whatever,” Spot says, petting through Race's hair.

“I'm not moving until morning, though.”

“That's fair,” Spot decides. “I think we can agree on that.” Race looks up with a grin.

“Good.” 

**Author's Note:**

> I adore my lanky awkward sweetheart Racetrack Higgins. Write the smut you want to read. Comments and kudos are, as always, more than appreciated, and I see/adore every single one even if I don't respond!!  
> (Fun fact: the first time I realized "Like A Prayer" was about blowjobs was when I had it stuck in my head during the middle of a ten pm caffeine-fueled tech week rehearsal. It changed my life, but I don't know whether for better or worse.)


End file.
